


Safe Text

by swtalmnd



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, First Time, Humor, M/M, discussion of frilly knickers, don't drink and read, unsafe texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-03
Updated: 2011-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-31 16:49:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swtalmnd/pseuds/swtalmnd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John sends a dirty text to Sherlock by mistake. Sherlock texts back...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe Text

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lookingatstars2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingatstars2/gifts).



> A [Make Me a Monday](http://community.livejournal.com/sherlockbbc/2269003.html?thread=26486859#t26486859) fill for lookingatstars2.
> 
> Beta-read by my darlings isidore13 & rubyrosered, but all mistakes are my own fault.

John was in a jaunty sort of mood, anticipation for tonight's date making him smile at everyone and everything. They'd gotten fairly far snogging last time, and this third date promised the first sex he'd managed since he moved in with Sherlock and his mad interruptions and wonderfully dangerous pastimes. John paused between patients to get out his phone and, with an impish little grin and a tiny thrill of risk for the presumption, sent a text.

_Your thighs are so_  
_creamy white, I just_  
_want to lie between_  
_them and lap at your_  
_skin. My mouth_  
_waters at the thought_  
_of tasting you tonight._

His phone beeped a few moments later and he read the reply eagerly.

_Only for you would I_  
_consider spreading my_  
_legs, but you I would_  
_welcome between my_  
_thighs._  
_SH_

John stared, and then stared some more, certain it was some sort of bizarre joke. Then his phone beeped again, and he read the next message with some trepidation.

_That reminds me, we're_  
_out of milk._  
_SH_

John laughed, but it had a bit of a hysterical edge to it. Sherlock had seen John's admiration from the first, put him off and pushed him away before John could even suggest anything untoward, and so John had soothed his bruised pride and unwelcome desires by asking out every attractive person he thought he could pull. The dates were never quite so satisfying as he hoped, but then, half the time they had Sherlock acting as third wheel, or just dragging him off midway through.

John stared at his phone again, and then sent another message.

_If you mean that, I'll_  
_cancel tonight's date &_  
_be home by 6 with milk_  
_& whipped cream. Be_  
_naked._

John hesitated over the send button, and then figured, what the hell. If it was all a dream, then he'd wake up, and if it was some sort of joke, then he'd think of something really good to get his revenge. He rang the intercom for the next patient, wondering if his date would ever forgive him. Or if John would even care, once he had Sherlock in his bed. If he really got Sherlock into bed, and if he got to keep him there after. He nearly dropped his phone when it beeped with another message.

_Get more lubricant,_  
_you're nearly out. I_  
_knew you were highly_  
_sexual but not how_  
_much you masturbate_  
_when I'm not home._  
_SH_

John stared at the screen in disbelief, then tucked it away as fast as he could when his patient appeared.

When the next lull came and he could check his phone, John was amused to find he had several texts waiting.

_I wonder, do you think_  
_of me when you_  
_masturbate so often?_  
_If so, I'll have a lot_  
_to live up to._  
_SH_

_If I'm waiting naked,_  
_should I be in my bed,_  
_or yours? Mine is more_  
_comfortable, but yours_  
_is cleaner._  
_SH_

_Bored. Dull. Come_  
_home soon, or I'll_  
_start and finish_  
_without you._  
_SH_

John laughed at that last one and texted back.

_I still have an hour to_  
_go, I said six and I_  
_meant it. Don't finish_  
_without me, or you_  
_won't get to finish me,_  
_either._

John only felt a little bad that he was grinning hugely as he called to cancel his date -- his apologetic excuse of a last-minute Sherlock emergency wasn't quite a lie. He pocketed his phone and tried not to rush through his last few patients, ignoring the two times his phone chimed.

It wasn't until he'd safely ensconced himself in a taxi that he checked the messages, anticipation thrumming through him.

_You really need to_  
_either choose better_  
_passwords or clear_  
_your internet history_  
_more often. Really,_  
_John, crossdressing_  
_with your figure?_  
_SH_

_Unless you're thinking_  
_of me in those pretty_  
_underthings, in which_  
_case, carry on. I_  
_look lovely in black_  
_lace._  
_SH_

John laughed and texted back, blushing to his ear-tips but very amused indeed.

_Actually that was my_  
_cancelled date's thing,_  
_but I wouldn't mind_  
_seeing you in the one_  
_I bookmarked._

It took less than a minute to get an answer.

_If all goes well tonight_  
_that can certainly be_  
_arranged. This site is_  
_fascinating._  
_SH_

John had to pause to pay the cabbie and nip into Tesco's. He made his way to the display of lubricants and then texted back.

_Why do you think I_  
_spent so much time_  
_on it? What brand_  
_of lube? Condoms?_

John perused the rather small selection while he waited for Sherlock's reply, feeling a mix of pride and embarrassment that he was loitering around while his hopefully-soon-lover told him what to get. His phone chimed and a spike of pure desire replaced them both when he read Sherlock's text.

_The one you have here_  
_is fine, just get a big_  
_bottle. I want the_  
_knickers with the_  
_ruffles you visited_  
_17 times but didn't_  
_bookmark, too._  
_SH_

Right, that was it. John grabbed the biggest bottle they had of his preferred brand and a box of condoms as well, and headed straight for the milk. He knew there were other groceries they needed, but he couldn't think past the mental image of Sherlock wearing black knickers with pink ruffles, bent over his lap and...

John made it through the chip-and-PIN machine in record time.

_I'm almost there,_  
_just finished up at_  
_Tesco's._  
_You. In my bed._  
_Naked. Now._

John took the few blocks from the shop at a quick-march that would've made his old Sergeant proud, and he ignored the chime from his pocket in favour of unlocking the door to their flat. He barely paused to put the milk away before he was heading toward the stairs, calling, "Sherlock? Are you in my room?"

"As per your request," came Sherlock's voice, floating down from John's room.

"Right," said John, shedding his coat. "Right, so we're going to do this, then," he added to himself, shoes kicked off in the general direction of the door. His socks were discarded forlornly on the stairs, and he was unbuttoning his shirt even as he pushed open the door to his room.

His breath caught, and he dropped the bag of supplies as his fingers went numb from pure shock. He had half expected Sherlock to have been playing some elaborate prank on him, and nothing at all had prepared him for the sight of Sherlock, on his back in John's bed, skin flushed against the white of the sheets. Sherlock had two fingers buried inside the very pink ring of his arse, and a little whimper escaped both of their mouths as their eyes met.

"Lubricant would be good," said Sherlock, pulling his fingers out with a positively obscene noise and holding his hand up.

John gave himself just a moment to stare before he scooped up the bag and began fumbling with the bottle, cursing whoever it was that caused safety seals to be invented. He finally got it open and squirted a healthy dollop onto Sherlock's hand. "I want to help," said John, when it looked like Sherlock would finish getting ready without John getting to slip his finger into that inviting, tender-looking opening.

"I'll save this for you, then," said Sherlock, eyeing John's rumpled clothing significantly.

John shucked his kit with army efficiency, and managed somehow to climb between Sherlock's legs while getting his own fingers slick with lubricant. "I half thought you were joking," said John, leaning down over Sherlock, trying not to find the entire thing too surreal.

"As did I," said Sherlock, his clean hand tangling in John's hair as their mouths met in a messy, needy kiss. Sherlock's other hand found John's cock and began to spread the cool lubricant over it, making John hiss and moan.

John retaliated by sinking two fingers into Sherlock, pressing his forehead to Sherlock's and trying to catch his breath. "Next time," he said, working them in and out, "I want to do this right, undress you, kiss you more before we get to this bit."

Sherlock grinned and arched up for another kiss. "I didn't want you to back out," he admitted, his own breathing reduced to erratic panting by John's deft touches.

"God, no, been wanting this," John laughed, kissing Sherlock hard. "You saw it from the start." John slid in a third finger just to watch Sherlock lose his train of thought, that great brain stuttering on the pleasure of John's touch. "Wanted you forever, Sherlock."

John crooked his fingers upward and Sherlock moaned, shuddering as John stroked unerringly over the sensitive gland inside him. "Now, John, make it now," begged Sherlock.

Sherlock writhing beneath him was the hottest thing John had ever seen in his life and he was quick to comply. There was more fumbling but between them they got his cock covered and slicked, Sherlock's legs up over John's shoulders and John pressing his way inside.

"Christ, you're tight," said John, trying desperately not to come right then just from the look on Sherlock's face.

"It's been, fuck, a while," Sherlock groaned, his voice low and rough. One hand was braced against the headboard, giving John extra leverage, while the other wrapped itself around his own cock. 

John's hips jerked forward, and after a few stuttering, amazed starts, they managed a rhythm of sorts with John thrusting and Sherlock stroking and both of them trying not to finish before they were half begun. John's hands ran up and over Sherlock's thighs and then gripped his hips, making sure he could give Sherlock as much pleasure as John was getting from the tight, hot grasp of Sherlock's willing body. Neither of them managed any further words, just noises and half-moaned syllables.

John let his eyes drift closed, but he couldn't deny himself the sight of Sherlock, his Sherlock, actually beneath him, around him, letting John have him. When he opened them again he met Sherlock's lust-addled gaze and it was all too much. John cried out and thrust harder, hips snapping forward with each pulse of his orgasm, spilling everything out into Sherlock.

John would have worried about Sherlock thinking he was too quick and might always be fast, but just as John finished Sherlock let out a loud groan and came all over himself. Sherlock's face was flushed and his hair stuck in sweaty ringlets to his forehead, but the expression was otherwise very close to the one he wore when he'd had a revelation about a case, very close to the one he'd always worn in John's imagination when he came, but this was so, so much better.

John couldn't help the grin on his face as he watched Sherlock in the throes of pleasure, and watched that brilliant intelligence come back into his pale eyes afterward. "Gorgeous," said John, rubbing one hip gently.

Sherlock smiled right back and stretched, languid as a cat. "I am, aren't I?" he teased, and John laughed.

There were a few moments of awkwardness when John pulled out and they cleaned up and disposed of the detritus, but John was pleasantly surprised to find that Sherlock had no intention of leaving his bed once they were done.

"Wouldn't have figured you for a cuddler," said John, head happily pillowed over Sherlock's heart.

Sherlock kissed his hair and said softly, "As with many things we've done together, only with you."


End file.
